


Lords and Ladies

by mnemosyne23



Series: Lords and Ladies - Fili/Sigrid [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But if Bard finds out he'll kill him, F/M, Fili's a g-ddamn gentleman, Fluff, I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP!, Mutual Masturbation, Post-BOFA, Sweetness, naturally this leads to sexy times, the pressures of being the heirs to fallen kingdoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne23/pseuds/mnemosyne23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili just planned to have a quick wash at the lake.  Sigrid just planned to do a little laundry.  But you know what they say about best laid plans...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IDEK. I was dying for more Fili/Sigrid but I didn't know what to do about it, so I just started writing. No plan, no goal, nothing. All I wanted was some Fili/Sigrid sweetness. After two straight days of writing virtually non-stop, this is the result. It's not much, but I had to get these two on paper before they drove me crazy with their pouting and their puppy dog eyes. 
> 
> And since it's me, and I ship Kiliel like WHOA, I of course threw in a few mentions of the younger Durin and his lady love. ;)
> 
> Please enjoy! And don't take this too seriously. It was so much fun to write that I want everybody to have fun reading it, too. ^_^ 
> 
> I will go down with this 'ship harder than popsicle!Jack on the "Titanic," dammit. 
> 
>  
> 
>  **PS - For the purposes of this fic, Sigrid is eighteen years old.** I don't think her actual age is given anywhere, but when I first saw "Desolation of Smaug," I pegged her as late teens. So to avoid squicking myself out I've decided to make her 18, an age at which many young women would have been married and starting families of their own in the historical eras that inspired Tolkien's Middle-Earth.

The cool lake was a balm against Fili's hot skin as he eased into the sheltered pool. He'd stumbled across the hidden inlet several weeks ago while scouting for game, and it had become a favorite escape of his ever since. He hadn't even shared its location with Kili, making it one of the few secrets he and his brother had between them. The calm serenity of the surrounding trees, the soft lap of water against the shore, and the bulwark of boulders that formed a natural wall around the pool made it the perfect place to rest and recuperate after a long day. It was also deep enough to rise to Fili's midriff, which was just what his sore muscles needed on a day like today.

The work of rebuilding after Smaug's death and the subsequent battle – the Battle of Five Armies, as it had been dubbed – seemed never-ending, and while the rewards were great they didn't come easy. It was gratifying to see both Lake-town and Dale rising – quite literally – from the ashes of Smaug's destruction, and no amount of toil could dim the pride he felt watching his ancestral home of Erebor begin to once again resemble the halls of legend he'd heard about in stories. 

That said, homes didn't build themselves, and crops didn't sow themselves, and livestock didn't feed themselves. Miraculous as the rebirth might seem, the settlements that rose in the radius of the Lonely Mountain could only come into being through the labor of the people who lived and worked there. Men and Dwarves worked side by side to restore the once thriving region to its former glory. Even the Elves helped, though Thranduil – ever insular – allowed only small parties at a time to venture down the Forest River, bearing seeds and fabrics and sturdy Mirkwood timber to aid in the rebuilding process. Fili was certain that, had it not been for Tauriel, even those brief forays would have been far fewer and much farther between. 

He smiled as he thought of the willowy she-elf with the autumn red hair. It was no wonder Kili had fallen in love with her so quickly; they were both hard-headed and reckless to a fault, ready to openly defy their elders if they deemed it necessary. Thankfully Tauriel was somewhat more diplomatic than Fili's passionate little brother, and had managed to persuade her king to help the Men and Dwarves rebuild and restore the trade routes that would once again make the region a wealthy center of commerce. 

Of course, Kili could be diplomatic himself when given the proper motivation, and Tauriel seemed all the motivation the younger son of Dis had needed to turn into a silver tongued ambassador for interspecies relations. Given that uncle Thorin – _King Thorin_ , Fili reminded himself – hated elves only slightly less than goblins, it was nothing short of a miracle that Kili had finally managed to garner their uncle's – _monarch's_ – blessing to court the pretty she-elf. 

“You know,” Balin had remarked to Fili one evening at dinner, as they'd watched Kili smoothly facilitate a conversation between Thorin and Tauriel that left the former looking only slightly disgruntled rather than purple with rage, which was his typical reaction to all things elvish, “if your brother devoted himself to diplomacy – in matters that involved more than fair maidens of Elvish quality – he would make a fine adviser to the king.”

“I don't think you need worry about that, Balin,” Fili responded with a grin, helping himself to some of the rich Dorwinion wine Tauriel and her company had brought as a gift for the King Under the Mountain. “That one's got a head hotter than a smelting forge. He'll not be replacing you at Thorin's side any time soon.”

“I wasn't speaking only of Thorin, my Prince,” the older dwarf had imparted with a twinkle in his eye. 

Fili sighed at the memory and leaned back in the cold water of the lake, letting himself drift on his back as he gazed up at the clouds that scudded across the sky. Prince. He was a prince. All his life he'd known it but it still didn't feel as though the word applied to him. He was far happier currying a pony than currying favor. Kili may indeed make a fine adviser someday, but Fili couldn't imagine ever being a decent prince.

Or a king for that matter.

He'd thrown himself into the rebuilding of Dale and Lake-town, lending his sturdy arms and strong legs to the carpenters and stone masons and blacksmiths who needed manpower to put their wares to work. It was the neighborly thing to do, or so he'd told Dwalin when the tattooed warrior had asked why he spent so much time in the cities of Men. “Kili's spending all his time with the elves – well, ONE elf at least – so it makes sense that the other one of us should show some solidarity with Men, too.”

It also helped that, for a little while each day, it gave Fili a chance to escape from the crushing orbit of the Throne Under the Mountain. 

Tilting himself to his feet again, Fili stood on the floor of the cove and scrubbed at his arms and chest. His body had adjusted to the water's temperature by now and he took great pleasure in sluicing away the grime and sweat that came from hours of manual labor. The work was rewarding; the clean-up doubly so.

Taking a deep breath he ducked under the water, submerging himself fully. He kicked off toward the shore, holding his breath as he pulled himself through the water with a powerful butterfly stroke. As little dwarflings he and Kili would often challenge each other to contests to see who could hold their breath longer underwater. Fili always won, though now and then he'd fake a cramp so that his younger brother could enjoy a victory, too. 

He was still caught up in the happy memory when he resurfaced with a gasp, so he didn't notice the young woman crouched directly in front of him until he heard her squeak of surprise.

His eyes flew open and he gaped at her. “Sigrid?” For a moment he didn't know what to do, then quickly started to move toward the shore, searching for his clothes.

“P-prince!” Bard's older daughter stammered. Her cheeks were bright pink. Fili was about to ask her if she was cold when he felt the cool air brush over his thighs and realized he was standing in the shallows.

Standing in the shallows and very, very naked.

_Oh, **bollocks.**_

 

+%+%+%+%+

 

Sigrid's plans for the day had been fairly boring.

Wake up. Make breakfast for her father, brother and sister. See to it that the Men and Dwarves who were working on the construction had enough refreshment. Spend some time with the other women of Lake-town, mending old clothes and helping stitch up new ones with fabric from the elves. Time permitting she'd planned to join Tilda at the vegetable patch. Then, with the last of the afternoon, she had intended to take some of the linens out to the lake for a good hard scrubbing and pounding against the rocks. 

It was a busy schedule to be sure, but as the eldest child of Bard the Dragonslayer, hero of Esgaroth and Lord of Dale, she found herself to be in great demand. It was odd to have gone suddenly from the unremarkable daughter of a bargeman to one of the most important women in their dragon-scorched region of Arda, but she was used to shouldering responsibility. Now and then she'd catch her father's eye and she could tell that he regretted seeing her take on so many duties, above and beyond all that she already did for the family. Sigrid wished he'd stop worrying. She'd been taking care of Bain since he was a boy and Tilda since she was a babe in arms. Suddenly becoming the de facto Lady of Dale was exhausting, but nowhere near as bad as trying to get Tilda to take her medicine when she had a fever.

Nevertheless, Sigrid had been looking forward to having some time alone at the lake. Just her and the laundry and the birds singing. Maybe, if she was feeling particularly carefree, she might sing with them. Or maybe not. It was rare that she had the luxury of having a choice in what she did or didn't do, and she relished the opportunity to exercise a little free will.

And then she'd reached her favorite laundry spot and found it full of dwarf.

At first she hadn't seen him as she plunked herself down on one of the handy boulders on the shoreline. It was as she started to sort through the linens in her basket that she heard the soft splash and looked up, expecting to see the ripples of a passing fish, and found herself staring at the floating figure of the dwarf prince Fili. He was on his back in the middle of the cove, all but his face submerged. It was clear he hadn't seen her yet.

It was also quite clear that he was naked.

_Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear..._

Once upon a time Sigrid would have quietly gathered her things and scurried away. Just a few months back she wouldn't have even considered sitting here at the edge of the water watching a naked dwarf having a dip in the lake. 

But that was before Sigrid had become the Lady of Dale and had suddenly found her opportunities to make purely selfish choices greatly curtailed. _After all, what harm could it do? If he sees me I'll say I only just got here. He doesn't need to know if I watch for a little bit, does he? I won't try to see anything. I won't!_

Only a few minutes had passed when he stood up, his back to her, water streaming from his heavy blond braids. The movement took Sigrid by surprise and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from making a noise. Where he stood the lake just reached his stomach, and she watched as he took great handfuls of water and scrubbed at his limbs and face. 

That's right. She'd seen him working with the other workmen in town. They were rebuilding the marketplace. He must have come here to cleanup before heading home to Erebor. It was a bit odd that he'd choose to go out of his way and wash in the cold lake when he could probably have a nice warm bath back at the Lonely Mountain. Then again maybe he'd wanted some solitude himself, the same as her. He'd been a prince his whole life, but Sigrid suspected that being a prince-in-exile was much different from being a _prince_. Maybe not bargeman's-daughter-to-noblewoman different, but still different.

Lost in thought Sigrid hadn't noticed when Fili disappeared beneath the surface of the water. When he reappeared, erupting out of the water like a golden-maned sea creature, spraying water as he shook out his braids, she'd nearly screamed. Thankfully she'd managed to swallow the worst of her fright and all that emerged past her lips was a squeak of surprise. 

Fili zeroed in on the sound instantly. Dwarves, Sigrid decided, must have ears like elves. “Sigrid?” He looked surprised to see her, so at least she could pretend she hadn't been watching him bathe for the past ten minutes and could say she'd just arrived. 

He started to move toward the shore, and from the way he was looking around she could tell he was searching for his clothes.

Her eyes widened as she realized what this meant. “P-prince!” The lake had still reached his hips when he resurfaced, but as he moved toward land the water quickly receded. 

Sigrid's cheeks flamed.

The same thought seemed to occur to Fili and he froze midstep, staring at her like a spooked horse. 

That didn't help very much, because now he was standing stock still a mere stone's throw from her, the lake lapping around his knees as water streamed down his body. His very, very naked body.

Sigrid gulped around the dry, hot lump in her throat. _Oh, Valar. Now what do I do?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Oh, Mahal. Now what do I do?_

Fili's mind raced as he tried to decide on a course of action. Sigrid was still staring at him, but since she wasn't pointing and laughing or else shrieking in terror he figured she was okay. 

She had a brother, right? Surely she'd given her brother baths and helped him dress when he was a child. She must have been used to the... well, bits and pieces that came with being a he instead of a she. 

Of course, that had been her brother, and Fili could say from experience that naked brothers were one thing, but naked strangers were something else entirely. Naked strangers of the opposite sex were probably something else entirely all over again.

_Bollocks and blast!_

After a moment he finally had the brilliant idea of dropping his hands to cover the more intimate aspects of his nakedness. “I... didn't see you there,” he managed, shaking his head to dispel some of the irritating droplets of water that were running down his face and getting in his eyes. He wanted to squeeze the water out of his braids, but doing so would require at least one if not both of his hands and they were both very busy at the moment. 

“I just got here,” Sigrid said, sounding a little breathless. She gestured to the basket beside her, presumably full of laundry. “I... I didn't expect to find anyone else here.”

“Nor I.” She was still blushing red as a tomato, and Fili was sure his own face could light a furnace. “Um... I don't mean to be impertinent, milady, but my clothes are just hanging on that branch over there. Would you mind so much covering your eyes so I can get them?”

“Oh? Oh! Yes! Sorry!” She put a hand over her eyes, then seemed to think better of it and wiggled around on the boulder so her back was to him for a little added privacy. “Better?”

“Much, thank you.” He sloshed as fast as he could to land, wincing a little as the pebbly shore poked at the soles of his feet.

He hurried to the tree where he'd hung his clothes to air as he washed.

And stared.

Then stared some more.

Then, in case he'd missed something, he stared a little longer.

His boots were there. His blades, too. His fur vest was still draped over the branch. But his shirt was shredded, and his sturdy dwarf breeches were twitching. As he watched, a masked face poked out of a hole that had been gnawed in the crotch of the trousers. Conniving black eyes stared at him as the creature chewed on the wedge of _lembas_ he'd had in his pocket, the search for which had presumably made his clothes so irresistible to the local wildlife.

Fili glared at the raccoon with thinly veiled hostility. The raccoon stared back, unmoved.

_Bollocks and BLOODY blast!_

 

+%+%+%+%+

 

Sigrid nearly jumped out of her skin at the caterwauling that suddenly exploded from the other side of the large boulder at her shoulder. “Fili!” she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. “What's wrong!”

There was some more shrieking, hissing, and a few loud bellows from the dwarf prince. 

“Fili!” Sigrid cast about for some kind of weapon. At the bottom of the laundry hamper was a large carving knife, a precaution she'd gotten into the habit of taking at her father's urging. Tossing out the various linens from the basket, she closed her hand around the comfortingly solid hilt of the knife and leaped down from the boulder, racing toward the sound of fighting.

What she found was not what she'd expected.

First she saw Fili. Except for his boots he wasn't wearing a stitch. He had a very nice back. The muscles bunched and snaked under his skin as he fought with something large and furry that seemed to be wearing his pants, which were themselves caught up on a tree branch.

“Go!” he barked at the creature, yanking on a pant leg. “Get going! Go home! Go father more bandit rats, you little bastard!”

The raccoon – now that she looked closer, she saw it was a raccoon – was hissing and clawing at the dwarf. It clearly did not want to relinquish it's newly-found, warm, comfortable, bifurcated home. 

With a growl of frustration Fili heaved on his pant leg. The raccoon clutched at the tree branch with it's paws and the fabric of the trousers with its sharp teeth. The stitches that held the breeches together had already been loosened from the raccoon's earlier gnawing, and this latest indignity proved more than they could handle. 

With a long, satisfying _riiiiiip!_ the breeches tore down the crotch. Fili stumbled backward, one pant leg flailing as his arms pinwheeled in a failed attempt to maintain his balance. The raccoon hissed in triumph and scrambled down from the tree, scampering away into the forest with the other pant leg still in its mouth.

“Filthy, thieving, flea-bitten BASTARD!” Fili snarled as it disappeared into the trees. “Pestilent vermin! _Give me back my pants!_ ”

Sigrid watched all of this with the kind of detached confusion that only the sight of a naked dwarf fighting over his clothes with a dog-sized bundle of teeth and fur can elicit. After a moment she realized that Fili was still sprawled on his back under the tree, clutching his remaining pant leg to his chest like a talisman, his face stormy. 

She cleared her throat. “I... might have something in my basket you can wear.”

Fili blinked and tilted his head back, suddenly aware of her presence. “Oh, Mahal,” he groaned, dragging the pant leg up to cover his face. “Kili's never going to let me hear the end of this.”

 

+%+%+%+%+

 

In the end Fili ended up sitting on the boulder beside Sigrid, a blanket wrapped around his waist, as she worked at fashioning a well-worn flannel nightshirt into a pair of makeshift trousers. “Bain's outgrowing this one,” she explained as she neatly ripped the seams. “This'll give me reason to make him a new one.”

“Do you always carry needle and thread?” he asked as she produced the items seemingly from thin air.

“Oh yes. With a little brother and sister you never know when you might need to stitch up a torn sleeve or sew on a loose button.” She smiled at him. “They're always getting into trouble.”

Fili smiled as she turned back to the matter at hand. “Aye, that I understand. Kili's always getting himself into scrapes. Course, Kili's kind of scrapes usually involve something trying to kill him and me having to ride to his rescue like the magnificent brute I am.”

Sigrid laughed. It was quite a lovely sound. Fili had spent some time with Bard's children, starting with the company's first arrival in Lake-town, and had always felt an affinity for the older daughter. She reminded him very much of himself. But in all that time he didn't remember ever hearing her laugh. Her smile was easily given and kind, but he hoped he could make her laugh more often. It did a soul good to hear it.

“Have you any other brothers or sisters?” she asked, using his remaining pant leg as a gauge as she began to stitch. 

“Nah, 'sjust me and Keel. Though I've got so many cousins it'd make your head spin. We're thick as thieves, us dwarves.”

“I'd noticed.” Her eyes sparkled good-naturedly. 

“And you? Have you any other family?”

Her smile faded and Fili could have kicked himself. “No. Ma died right after Tilda was born. It's just me and Da and Bain and Tilda. And that's fine.” Her voice was very firm as she said it. “We do just fine together.”

“I know.” Fili looked out at the lake for somewhere to put his eyes that didn't feel as intimate as staring at her profile. “The townsfolk have a great deal of respect for you, y'know. They say your father's a good man, a fair ruler.”

“After so many years with the Master that's not much praise. They could have replaced him with a cockroach and called it an improvement.”

Fili snorted. “He was awfully repellant,” he agreed. 

“You've no idea. He was odious.” 

They lapsed into comfortable silence, Sigrid peacefully sewing as Fili watched the clouds skim overhead. The sky was starting to go the darker blue of late afternoon, the shadows lengthening. 

“I have a confession to make.” Fili glanced at the young woman beside him as she spoke and was surprised to find her blushing. 

“Oh? What about?” he asked.

“I... “ Her teeth worried her bottom lip and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before hurriedly looking back to the sewing in her lap. “I... saw you. In the water.”

Fili blushed. “I know,” he reminded her, checking to make sure the blanket was still tied around his waist. “I'm sorry about that.”

“No, I mean... before you saw me. I saw you, floating.” Her face was bright red. “I came to do the washing and heard a splash and looked up and there you were. I... I shouldn't have stayed. I'm sorry.”

Fili watched her in confusion. “How long?”

“A few minutes. Maybe ten.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Aye. Why did you stay?”

Sigrid sighed and laid the sewing down in her lap, twisting her hands together anxiously. “I don't know,” she admitted. “Probably because... because I knew I shouldn't.” 

The look she gave him this time was embarrassed and regretful, but she met his gaze head on. “I know it's foolish,” she said quietly, “but I wanted to do something I shouldn't. Back home, if I do the wrong thing it impacts other people. It could hurt Da, or Bain, or Tils. And now that Da's the Lord of Dale I have to make decisions for people I barely know or haven't even met. There aren't a lot of things I can do that just affect _me_.

“I wasn't going to let you see me,” she continued, her voice full of sincerity. “I was going to hide before you noticed I was here. Or I was going to pretend like I'd just arrived. But you know that already,” she added ruefully. “I thought, what's the harm? You looked so peaceful. It was nice. I came here to be alone, but it felt good e to not be completely alone.” She looked away again, suddenly shy.

“Is that all?” Fili asked softly.

“Mm...”

“Sigrid?”

She sighed in defeat. “And you were naked.”

His lips twitched in a smile. “Eh? You were peeping?”

“No!” She gave him an indignant glare. “I was very careful NOT to peep! That was part of the plan! I was going to watch a naked dwarf prince have a bit of a wash, but I _wasn't_ going to let myself actually _see_ anything. It was going to be very touch-and-go and thrilling.” She pointed at him, brow furrowed. “Until you came blundering out of the water all... all dripping and naked and gold and tan and.... Valar!” She buried her face in her hands, sewing forgotten. “This is humiliating.”

Fili couldn't hold back his grin any longer. “What you're telling me, milady Sigrid, is that you were feeling stifled at home, and when you had the chance to act a wee bit naughty you took it. No harm, no foul. Is that right?”

“...Yes.”

“How is that humiliating? I've done the same myself, and with less pleasant results.”

“Was there nudity?”

“I can say with full certainty that there was, though I was so drunk at the time I can't remember if I was the naked one or if it was Kili. Course there's an excellent chance it was both.”

Sigrid peeked at him through her fingers. “You two get into an awful lot of trouble together, don't you?” she observed.

“My mother says we turned her beard gray a century early.”

Sigrid laughed – that musical sound again – and let her hands fall away from her face. “And yet here I am, getting into trouble all by myself. I feel quite lonesome.”

“I'm here, aren't I?”

“Yes, but you're just the innocent victim, not the troublemaker.”

“Is that what bothers you? I can cause a fair amount of trouble on my own, y'know. I've not been innocent for a good long while.”

“Are you offering to be my partner in crime, Prince Fili?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Even though you're the one who got caught starkers?”

“If I can get you to laugh again, aye.” He beamed. “You've got a lovely laugh, milady Sigrid.”

“Oh...” She offered him a shy smile. “Thank you, highness.”

“Please, just Fili. I've got dwarves I've never met tipping their caps to me and touching their forelocks and calling me _milord_ and _majesty_ , and it makes my teeth itch. I'm Fili of Ered Luin, same as I always was.” 

He picked up a pebble and sent it skipping across the placid surface of the lake. It sent out ripples that bumped into other ripples, which in turn bumped into other ripples, a mess of competing wavelets, before the water finally settled back into even-toned serenity.

If only everything in life were so easily resolved.

Sigrid's soft hand covered his and he looked in her direction. “And I'm just Sigrid, Bard the Bowman's daughter,” she murmured with a kind smile. “Same as I always was.”

Except she wasn't. She was the Lady of Dale, daughter of the Dragonslayer, the blood of Girion's line in her veins. She was so much more than just a bargeman's daughter. And in the amber light of late afternoon she shone like gold.

There weren't words enough to tell her all this, so Fili kissed her instead. It was not perhaps what a prince would do, but then, he wasn't much of a prince.


	3. Chapter 3

Fili kissed like a prince.

Admittedly, Sigrid's only experience with kissing came from the few hurried fumbles she'd shared with the tailor's son behind the barge house. He was a nice boy, a bit spindly and awkward, but she was awkward herself and appreciated his sweet attempts to woo her. His kisses had been messy and off center. It had been nice enough, but she often wondered why everyone made such a fuss over it.

But Fili... 

Oh.

Fili was definitely no tailor's son. Fili was definitely a prince.

The kiss took Sigrid by surprise, and for a moment she didn't know how to react. The rasp of his whiskers against her skin was shockingly pleasant; foreign and deliciously masculine. As she eased into the kiss she let her hands rest on his chest. Her fingers curled in the fine mesh of gold hair that covered his pectorals and arrowed down his stomach to disappear under the blanket. 

“Fili...?” she murmured when he finally broke away. Thankfully he didn't go far, resting his forehead against hers and breathing heavily. It was nice to know she wasn't the only one left breathless.

“You're not _just_ anything,” he replied, voice husky and deep. “Being Sigrid of Dale is a singular, special thing. Remember that.”

Her heart hop-skipped in her chest and she forced herself to take a breath before speaking. “So is being Fili of Erebor.” 

Feeling suddenly bold, Sigrid tilted her head and caught his mouth in another kiss. Fili tasted like fresh lake water and cool forest air, with just a hint of pipe weed. Eager for more she let her tongue touch the seam of his lips.

A soft, primal moan vibrated under her palms as Fili opened his mouth for her, catching her tongue with his own. Distantly she was aware of his arm twisting around her waist and lifting her easily from her spot on the boulder into his lap. She'd often admired the sturdiness of the dwarves she'd met in the months since Thorin's company first came to Lake-town, but their strength was still a marvel. Fili was not even as tall as her, just reaching her shoulders when they stood side by side, yet he lifted her as though she were no more than a featherweight.

Her bones felt like butter and she melted against him. “Oh...”

“Aye.” His fingers furrowed into her hair, done up in a loose braid that wrapped around her head like a crown. “May I undo this?”

“Yes.” 

It was almost embarrassing how the touch of his fingers in her hair made Sigrid feel. From what little she knew of dwarf custom the braiding and unbraiding of hair was considered a deeply personal act, shared in families and between lovers. As Fili's surprisingly gentle fingers carefully separated her messy plaits Sigrid felt a warm glow begin to build in her belly. By the time he was done she could hardly breathe, her heart in her throat.

He combed his fingers through her long, honey blond tresses. “Like amber at first light,” he murmured.

Sigrid blushed. “Yours is... gold.” _Oh, Valar..._ Here he was, prince that he was, composing poetry about her hair out of thin air, and the best she could do was 'gold'? _Curse my tongue for a lead slab. Oh, Valar!_ She groaned and hid her face in his chest.

Fili laughed, a deep rumble under her cheek. “May I kiss you again, milady?”

“Only if you promise to stop calling me 'milady.'” 

“Fair enough. May I kiss you, Sigrid?”

“Please.” It would keep her from saying something else clodpated and dull. “Please do.”

 

+%+%+%+%+

 

Sigrid's eyes were pearly gray shading to blue, and her long blond hair was silky as gossamer. Her lips were the softest shade of rose pink, but chapped and a little rough. There wasn't much time or opportunity to indulge in impractical comforts like lip balms and face paints when you were trying to drag your ancestral home out of ruin and breathe it back to life through sheer force of will. 

No doubt Sigrid would have been embarrassed if he told her her mouth was anything less than petal soft, so Fili kept his own mouth shut. He wasn't good enough with words to explain that chapped lips were what he wanted – that they made her so much more real. Kissing her had worked so far, so he decided to keep going with that until he could think of another way to let her know how much he _wanted_ her.

_Oh, Mahal. I do, don't I? Aule's beard... I'm in trouble._

Kili had always been the romantic. Despite his lack of beard, Fili's younger brother had never wanted for female company. He knew how to twinkle. 

Fili did not twinkle. He could speak in silky tones when needed and could turn on the charm just like his brother, but when it came to trying to impress the ladies he tended to forego the smooth talk and went straight for the brawn. Dwarf lasses were always appreciative of a fellow who could throw a knife with pinpoint accuracy and wield a blacksmith's hammer like an extension of his own body. He'd had his fair share of stolen kisses and illicit rolls in the hay with dwarrow ladies who were eager to show just _how much_ they appreciated such things. 

Sigrid was a different matter entirely. He didn't think she'd be impressed if he broke this (truly amazing) kiss, looked her square in the eye, and purred, “I forge weld my own daggers.” That might count as foreplay for dwarves, but the race of Men didn't have the same appreciation for finely crafted metalwork.

And he _wanted_ to impress her. He wanted her to smile at him and laugh and say his name in a breathless giggle. He wanted her slender fingers to keep moving down his chest, over his stomach, and further down until the blanket around his waist became an anachronism. He wanted to tease open that simple bodice and reach inside to touch all the soft, supple curves that distinguished human women from the stockier beauties of the Dwarves and the willowy enchantresses of the Elves; then further down, to touch those warm, secret places that made all women such magical creatures, regardless of race.

Let it never be said that Fili couldn't appreciate beauty in all its forms, and Sigrid was a beautiful woman. A very beautiful woman who seemed just as eager as he was to put aside the worries that came with being the heir to a reclaimed kingdom in favor of a few hours spent in selfish indulgence with a kindred spirit.

When the need to breathe finally broke them apart, Fili decided to tell her all of that. Pretty words might have been his brother's forte, but honesty was always the best policy. 

“Sigrid,” he began, but she cut him off with a hand over his mouth.

“Don't say anything,” she said, her voice shaking and breathless. “If you do I'm going to start thinking again and probably end up running away like a fool. I don't want to run away. So just... Don't say anything? Let me do this?”

Fili nodded, watching obediently as she stood up. He wanted to reach out and touch the hem of her dress but held himself still as she stepped away to stand beside her laundry hamper, her back to him. His eyes widened as he watched her untie her housecoat and set it aside, then begin to unbutton her calico dress. She hesitated a moment before letting it slide off her shoulders and down her body to pool around her feet. She was wearing a pair of lacy bloomers and sturdy, practical shoes over warm wool socks. Her honey blond hair hung in kinky tendrils down her bare back, and as she turned around she kept her arms crossed over her breasts. Fili could see her belly trembling with nerves.

“It's only fair,” Sigrid whispered, taking a careful step toward him. “I... I saw you, so... so you should... get to see me. Don't you agree?”

She'd told him not to speak and he wasn't about to start now; not if it meant she'd run away. Instead he stood up, very slowly so as not to spook her, and held out his hand. With the other hand he loosened the blanket around his waist and let it fall away.

Then he smiled, and after a moment's hesitation saw her eyes sparkle in response. Sometimes he could manage a twinkle after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, the actual sexy times. I am a long-winded twit.

The boulder they'd been sitting on proved a bit too awkward for anything more than kissing, which was how Sigrid found herself stretched out on her back on the pebbled shore, cushioned on the blanket that had so recently been around Fili's waist. She stared up at the sky, one arm still draped across her breasts. She bit her lip in giggly excitement as she felt the dwarf's lips brush across her instep. “That tickles!”

“Does it? How about this?” He nipped her ankle.

“Oi, knock it off.” She grinned and gazed down her body to find his bright blue eyes as he laughed along with her. “And be careful with those socks. They're my warmest pair.”

He turned serious. “I'll guard them with my life,” he promised her solemnly, though his lips twitched with a poorly hidden smile. He rolled up her socks and tucked them neatly into her shoes, which were lined up beside his heavy boots alongside the blanket. 

Sigrid allowed herself the opportunity to admire his naked body as he stretched across her. Now that she could stare at him openly without feeling like a voyeur she could better appreciate how... lovely he was. It seemed an odd word to use in reference to the broad-shouldered, rugged young dwarf prince, but no other word seemed quite sufficient. His skin had the warm gilded tone of one who spent a lot of time outdoors in all weathers. It made his thick hair look that much more like spun gold as it draped across his shoulders. His muscles were hard and defined under his skin, and she found that watching them shift around as he moved was hypnotic.

The touch of his lips against her belly made her jump and Sigrid realized that she'd let her mind wander. That was the second time that afternoon she'd gotten distracted watching his back. 

“Fili...,” she murmured, resting her hand on his hair. Her fingers teased at his tight braids, still heavy and damp from his earlier dip in the lake. 

“Pretty Sigrid,” he breathed, his words tickling across her stomach. “By Mahal... You're a sight for sore eyes, lass.” He dipped his tongue into her navel and Sigrid gasped softly, her hand tightening in his hair. She still wore her bloomers, and while she was glad to have them – she didn't think she was quite ready to show him _everything_ – they were definitely getting more and more uncomfortable as time passed. 

She closed her eyes, reveling in the heat of Fili's mouth and his body pressed along her side. The cool breeze off the lake chilled her bare skin and she greedily pressed closer to him, eager to absorb some of the heat that poured off him like a furnace. 

The dwarf had started kissing upward and Sigrid shivered as he pressed a kiss to the arm that rested across her breasts. “It's okay, lass,” he murmured, moving a little higher to kiss her breastbone. “Let me see you, Sigrid.”

The way he said her name was magical. His voice had a faint burr to it that made the “-gr-” sound like a purr. “There's not much to see,” she whispered, voice shaking. She wanted to slap herself for sounding like such a silly girl.

Fili raised his head and smiled down at her. “Let me be the judge of that, Sigrid.” He gave her a playful wink. She bit her lip to fight back a nervous giggle, and when she felt his strong, thick-fingered hand circle her wrist to lift away her arm she didn't fight it.

“Ah, lass,” Fili moaned as he gazed down at her. “Perfect. Mahal couldn't have made you more perfect if he'd forged you himself.” 

He sat up and smoothed his hand down her body from throat to hip, grazing his knuckles lightly between her breasts before spreading his fingers across her lower belly; so close, so very, very close to the liquid heat that pooled between her thighs. The hard, hot press of his thick cock against her hip made her blush. That was for _her_. _She_ did that to him. Her fingers itched to smooth down his furry chest to his narrow waist, then lower to see just how hot dwarves could burn.

Sigrid watched Fili through heavy lashes, wondering what he saw when he looked at her with such dark eyes. She let him lift her arms to cross her wrists on the blanket above her head. It left her feeling terribly exposed, but the way Fili's eyes drank her in chased away any anxiety, replacing it with a smoldering heat that pressed outward in her lower belly.

She wished he'd touch her some more.

“I don't know where to touch first,” Fili rasped, as though reading her mind. 

Sigrid laughed softly, and Fili's eyes lit up at the way the movement made her breasts jiggle. “I didn't think a prince of Erebor would be so indecisive,” she teased, raising a foot to poke him in the thigh with her toe. “Let alone Fili of Ered Luin. What do you _want_ to touch?”

Fili growled, catching her foot and squeezing gently, his thumb kneading her instep. Sigrid's bones turned to jelly and she bit her lip to hold in a very indecorous moan. 

“I know what I want,” Fili assured her. “But that's something for a proper bed.”

“Oh...” It was getting harder to breathe as his hand moved up from her foot, massaging her calf. 

“Tell me, pretty Sigrid.” He looked up, and his gentle blue eyes were almost black, his pupils blown. “What would _you_ like to touch?”

Were her eyes as dark as his? Could he tell how badly she wanted to feel him under her palms? “May I...?” she breathed, wistful and hopeful.

“I wouldn't dream of stopping you.”

Sigrid managed to roll into a sitting position, her languid muscles protesting all the way. Fili watched her with a hawklike gaze as she moved onto her knees in front of him and pressed her hands against his abdomen. He took the hint and let her push him down onto the blanket. 

“You're so warm,” she murmured, watching her pale hands trail down his stomach, her fingers combing through the fine trail of golden hair that led down, down, down until she could curl her hand around his cock. Even thinking the word made her ears hot. Cock. It was surely red and proud, just like the rooster that crowed with each new morning, but oddly smooth and heavy in her palm.

“So hot...” She stroked him gently, watching in fascination as his member seemed to swell and grow even harder in her hand. “Do dwarves have fire in their blood? Is that why you burn like this? Fili...”

She could touch him forever.

 

+%+%+%+%+%+%+

 

If she stopped touching him, Fili was sure he'd burst into tears. 

Sigrid's hands were pale as milk, but her fingers were calloused from years of hard work and honest toil. The way she handled him was almost maddening, delicate and curious, her thumb stroking along the sensitive vein that ran along the underside of his cock from root to tip. 

He caught her wrist, stilling her and drawing her attention up to his face. “Sigrid,” he rasped. “You'll kill me, lass, if you keep touching like that.” She started to shrink away, clearly worried that she'd done something wrong, but he held tight and kept her hand in place. “No, sweet lady, that's not what I meant. I just meant there's more you can do, if you're willing.”

She bit her lip. “I... I won't give up my maidenhead, master dwarf,” she said firmly. “I vowed I'd not do that till my wedding night.”

“Because you're a better soul than I, Sigrid.” He smiled, his fingers stroking her wrist. “And I didn't mean that. Can I show you what I did mean?”

She blushed and nodded. “Yes... please, Fili...”

“And no more of this 'master dwarf' nonsense,” he chuckled. “It makes me feel like a prat.”

Sigrid grinned and poked his hip with her free hand. “It'll keep your ego in check.”

“It's already under lock and key thanks to Balin and my uncle.” With gentle hands Fili coaxed the young woman into his lap, straddling his thighs. “Have you ever done this before, lass?” 

She looked embarrassed for a moment. “No...” Then, softly, “Have you?”

“Aye. A few times.”

“Oh...”

“I'm sorry.” He didn't know why he felt he had to apologize, but she looked so crestfallen.

“No, it's okay.” She offered him a weak smile. “Da mentioned that you're more than 80 years old. Even if that means that you're about my age in dwarf years, I suppose it would make sense that you'd have … been with other women by now. Dwarf ladies. Most human girls my age are married by now. Eighty years is a lifetime to us.”

Fili didn't know what else to say, so trusting his actions to speak for him as they had in the past he tugged on the waist of her bloomers, easing them over the gentle swell of her hips. 

Sigrid stiffened. “Fili...?”

He gave her a reassuring smile and caught her hand from his abdomen, bringing it to his mouth. 

His tongue darted out to lave her palm and he heard her moan. He swiped his tongue over her hand a couple more times, from the heel to the tips of her fingers, then curled into a sitting position as he settled her wet hand around his throbbing cock again. “Ahhhh... That's good,” he choked. “Sigrid, that's good...”

“Like this?” Her hand started to move, carefully sliding up and down along his thick shaft. 

Fili saw stars.

“Mahal, yes... Yes...,” he gasped. 

One of his arms curled around her waist, tugging her a little further up his lap. He held her close as his other hand smoothed down her belly, seeking out the valley between her legs. As his fingers found her wet heat he heard Sigrid gasp and felt her tremble. “F-fili,” she whimpered.

His own voice was useless at this point, air too hard to come by, so he kissed her in answer. 

 

+%+%+%+%+%+%+

 

Sigrid moaned into the dwarf prince's mouth, heat flooding her body from head to toe. She could imagine the picture they made: Sigrid crouching in Fili's lap, her bloomers caught half down her thighs as his strong, clever fingers stroked between her legs, her own hand eagerly working his swollen cock. Just envisioning it made her press closer, desperate for more. 

Her breasts rubbed against his chest, the coarse hair teasing her sensitive nipples. She gasped and Fili's tongue slipped into her mouth, stealing her breath away. A moment later she felt his finger press carefully into her slit, then he was _inside_ her.

If she'd had any breath remaining it would have left her then.

“Fili...!” she managed to gasp, falling away from his lips and letting her head loll back as his hand began to rock gently between her legs. “Oh... V-valar...!” She realized her own hand had stilled in his lap and she quickly started stroking him again, feeling uncoordinated and awkward. Was this how Fillon the tailor's son had felt when he'd touched her breast behind the bargehouse? All elbows and knees and not enough hands but too many fingers? She had even more sympathy for him now. 

“Sigrid... more, like... yes, YES, like that...!” Fili buried his face in her shoulder, groaning and grunting. She felt his cock twitch and pulse in her hand and then a burst of wet heat flooded over her belly, splashing up to her breasts. Fili's member softened in her grip and he moaned. It was animal and feral and beautiful and perfect. 

Sigrid wanted to lean back and look at him, but then she felt his lips against the side of her neck as his thumb brushed across the place at the top of her slit that had been throbbing since she first saw him in the water, and her world turned fuzzy, then very, very bright.

“Filiiii...” She threw her free arm around Fili's shoulders, digging her fingers into his flesh and cleaving to him for dear life as she started to move in his lap, letting instinct take over where experience was lacking. 

The rough pad of his thumb against that tight bundle of nerves and fireworks was the sweetest torture imaginable. She was vaguely aware of Fili's voice by her ear, murmuring soft words of encouragement in the common tongue mixed with what must have been Khuzdul, but it all blended together in Sigrid's overheated brain. The scent of him, of _them_ , was overpowering; clear water, the sharp bite of evergreen and the bitter tang of sweat, and under it all the heavy musk of arousal. His hand was slippery between her legs and she wanted to cry because it felt so _good_. 

Then there was his thumb once more, pressing just _so_ , and moving just _so_ , and she fell apart, letting out a soft cry that might have been his name or might have been some wordless, primitive invocation. 

She slumped against his chest, gasping. After a few breathless minutes she managed to murmur, “Oh... Valar...”

“Mmm...” Fili kissed the corner of her eye. “Now imagine, my pretty fair maid, what we could do in a proper bed.”

She whimpered, because now that she'd felt THAT, she really, really wanted to know what else he could make her feel. “Better than that?” she breathed.

“Pretty Sigrid, that was just an appetizer. Dwarves are masters of the banquet.”

“Oh, VALAR...”


	5. Chapter 5

Afterward, Sigrid finished her sewing as Fili sat behind her and rebraided her hair. 

In the immediate afterglow, as Sigrid curled up on the blanket, Fili had torn a few strips off of his ruined breeches and soaked them in the lake. “See, you ladies are a lot less messy than we are when it comes to sex,” he'd told her as he cleaned his sticky white cum from her belly and breasts. 

“It doesn't feel less messy,” she mused, giggling as he spread her legs and stroked another damp cloth over her inner thighs. Her bloomers were folded on top of her shoes now; it seemed silly to keep them on considering what they'd just done together. She knew she should feel more self-conscious but she felt too warm and tingly to care. Fili certainly didn't seem to mind her nakedness, taking every opportunity to sneak a kiss to some normally obscured part of her body: behind her knee; her shoulder blade; the dip between her belly and her sex. It made her toes curl with pleasure.

Now they were sitting comfortably on the blanket, Sigrid cross-legged between Fili's legs as he plaited her hair in an intricate dwarf braid. “Braids can be a whole language of their own,” he explained. “If I had the proper beads and ribbons I could make your hair tell a story.”

“Oh?” She smiled as she bit through her thread and examined her handiwork. It was clearly a nightshirt that had been turned into a pair of makeshift short pants, but they'd do well enough to guard Fili's modesty until he could get back to Erebor and change into some proper clothes. “What kind of story would you have it tell?”

“Hmm... Something simple, I think. I'll leave the sagas to Kili. He could braid enough drama into Tauriel's hair to last a lifetime.”

Sigrid laughed and looked over her shoulder at him. “I prefer simple,” she agreed, admiring his handsome face and kind blue eyes. “Life is too complicated as it is.” 

She reached back to rest her palm on his cheek, her smile softening as he leaned into the touch. “What would your simple story be?” she murmured, stroking her thumb across his cheekbone.

His hands fell from her hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her back to rest against his chest. “Just a word,” he murmured, his lips drifting from her ear and down her neck to her shoulder. 

“One word? Such delicate braidwork for one word?” Sigrid closed her eyes, dreamily reaching her hand further back to play with Fili's own braids. 

“Mm-hmm.”

“And that would be?”

“'Mine.'”

She laughed. “My dear Prince Fili, I am the Lady of Dale! And you say I'm yours? You're being a bit presumptuous, don't you think?”

“No.” He grinned at her, full of mischief. “You're Sigrid, remember? Not the Lady of Dale. Not to me.”

“Mmm... I remember.” She turned in his arms and cuddled against his chest. “And you're Fili. Remember?” Her fingers toyed with his hair, idly curling it around her fingers. “My Fili.”

 

+%+%+%+%+%+%+

 

And Fili kissed her and said, “Yes.”

 

 

**THE END**


End file.
